


Inferno

by Sinistretoile



Series: Partners [9]
Category: British Actor RPF, Jaguar "British Villains" Commercial, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), F/M, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Surprise Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:30:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4770224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinistretoile/pseuds/Sinistretoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war has begun. Will Thomas and Amelia survive? Will their unconventional relationship be casualty to London's gangland war?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inferno

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Johnny Cash 'Ring of Fire' while I wrote this.

Thomas dropped into his chair, his heart heavy with grief. He knew this day would come. He hadn't expected it to be so soon after his grandmother's passing. It didn't surprise him, honestly. Thomas and Belle had been two halves of a whole. They completed each other. What one lacked, the other had in abundance. Much like he and Amelia. And when we'd found Thomas in the den with the first microphone she'd bought for herself in his lap, he didn't expect an answer when he'd called out to him.  
Burying his grandfather next to his grandmother had made him question everything about his life. Did he want to continue this life? Did he have a choice? Did he want a family like they'd had? Could he, would he, put any children he had with Amelia in that type of danger? Look at what had happened to his father. Did he even want children? Did she?  
The latch clicked softly to signal her presence. "Mick has two men at the front and the girl in the box office if the signs aren't enough."  
"Hang it all if they aren't."  
Amelia sat across his lap, bringing his head against her chest. His arm wound around her waist. Thomas drew in a deep breath. Her cleavage smelled like vanilla, amber and musk. The pair just held each other until Thomas sniffed and pulled back, his eyes wet with unshed tears. He knew she was affected by his grandfather's death. Thomas Sr. had been like an uncle to her after her grandfather's death, even if he himself had been unaware of how close his love and his grandfather were. He'd taken care of her estranged mother when she'd tried to fleece Amelia for her inheritance after Jacob's death. But here she sat, eyes rimmed with red and cared for him.  
She attempted a sad smile. "Want me to order in? We can eat then head back to the manor." Thomas nodded then cupped her face and kissed her tenderly. A gentle press of lips that they both treasured. "I'll be right back, mon chevalier."  
Thomas opened his drawer and brought out the box he'd held onto since Belle's funeral. Papa had given it to him. He stared at it until Amelia returned. His gaze followed her around the office. The low light shone off her auburn hair. His fingers twitched, aching to run through it. Her pale pink lips moved lushly with words that he didn't hear. He was mesmerized by her beauty; her pale skin sprinkled with freckles, her hazel eyes that showed green tonight.  
Amelia dropped two ice cubes into a tumbler then poured three fingers of Jameson over the ice. It clinked against the glass as it melted and shifted. A knock sounded before the door opened. Amelia set the tumbler in Thomas's awaiting hand then sat back on his lap.  
"Boss, Sophie needs me. Bridget and Darcy won't stop vomiting and spiked a fevers."  
"Go, man. Just put an extra pair of men at the back."  
"Four, boss?"  
"You're worth two of them, mate."  
Mick chuckled then shouting in the hall drew his attention. He opened the door just as shots rang out. The thud of the bodies of the two guards at the back entrance was lost in the slamming of the door. "Thomas, Amelia, get behind the desk."  
Mick drew his weapon as the man kicked in the door. He shot him then dove for cover behind the desk. Bullets sprayed through the office. Shattering glass, shredding and splintering everything else they touched. Thomas lay over Amelia.  
"Gun, in the bottom drawer!"  
Amelia crawled for it. Thomas went for the one in the holster under the desk. Amelia shot the ankle on one. When he fell, she destroyed his face with another bullet. "The desk won't hold out much longer, boss."  
"Right then, give us shoulder." Mick and he braced their shoulders against the desk. The shots stopped momentarily as the desk tipped forward then resumed before it crashed to the floor, a fresh surface to spray.  
"Boys, wait for them to reload. They're close." The three listened and counted as they struggled to remain calm. Mick's mind went to Sophie and the kids. Amelia and Thomas thought only of the other and what they'd do if anything happened to them.  
"How many shooters?"  
Mick counter six legs. "Three left."  
Amelia grabbed Thomas about the neck and kissed him savagely. "I love you."  
"I love you." Thomas kissed her again with just as much fire. The shots paused as they cycled out shooters. The trio popped up, braced shoulder to shoulder and fired into their opposites. Two fell but the third got two shots off, clipping Amelia in the cheek and Mick in the body.  
Amelia and Thomas emptied both guns into the third shooter. She let the blood run down her face. Mick didn't look for the wound as he moved around the desk and finished off the two dropped but only wounded shooters.  
"Mick, you're bleeding."  
"So are you." They laughed. Thomas inspected her face, using his thumb to wipe away the blood then kissed her bloody lips. "It's just a scratch." Mick held his side as he joined the pair. He stumbled at the last and dropped to his knee. Blood poured from between his fingers. "Or not."  
"Ma reine, call an ambulance!" Sirens filled the night. Thomas shrugged out of his jacket and balled it up to put pressure on the wound. Amelia spoke high and excited on the phone. "You'll be alright, Mick."  
"Shut up, Thomas."  
"I'm sorry, old friend."  
"Call Sophie."  
"I will."  
The police arrived, weapons drawn. "Alright, raise your hands."  
"I can't. I'm putting pressure on his wound."  
"Drop your weapon, sir."  
"Shit, sorry, mate." Mick clicked the safety on and let the gun fall then skidded it across the floor. More sirens sounded.  
"What the bloody hell happened here?"  
"Amelia, darling, enlighten the officer."  
"Of course, mon chevalier." She gave the officer a summary of what took place. The paramedics took Mick off to the hospital with the admonition that a detective would be around to get his statement. Amelia refused medical treatment. Thomas sat next to her, fingers interlinked as they retold the events. One by one the seven bodies were removed from the Murderer's Row Club. Crime scene techs moved over and around the office and hall as they waited in the club's dressing room.  
"Are you alright, Amelia?" She hugged herself and rubbed her shoulders then nodded. "Come sit, darling. You're pacing."  
"I can't help it. Carrico and Milano upped the ante."  
"We suspected this was coming."  
"I know. It doesn't change what it is."  
The violence between Thomas's organization and the Italians had escalated. Beatings and shootings took place daily. The destruction of businesses and property increased. There was a cease-fire when Thomas Sr.'s death was announced. They'd assumed it would last a few more days. It was now apparent that the cease-fire had been a calm before a storm.  
Thomas jerked her down into his lap. "I said sit, Amelia. You're shaking."  
"It's adrenaline, love."  
He held her against him as they watched the gaggle of people walk back and forth past the door. Eventually, the technicians and detectives had all they needed and left the couple in peace. Thomas and Amelia surveyed the damage. Blood and debris everywhere, the office was almost a complete loss. It broke his heart that this piece of his grandfather had been taken from him on the day they laid him to rest.  
Thomas knelt to retrieve the small jewelry box from where it had flown when they flipped the desk. "Amelia, will you sit please?"  
"Where?"  
"On the edge of the desk." She sighed and perched her ass against the edge of the desk. She'd done it countless times before when the desk had been upright. She'd give him this in his grief and shock and no doubt growing rage. They'd have to come to a decision about the Italians and soon. "Ma reine, this ring belonged to my grandmother. It wasn't the ring that my grandfather asked her to marry him with. She was buried with that. This ring was given to her on their 50th anniversary."  
"Thomas." Her tone was weary, warning.  
"Sixty nine years, less than a year between her death and his, a perfect match. Growing up, that's what I wanted. A best friend, a lover, a partner. And she's been here for years. I need only have admitted it." He knelt on one knee. "Amelia Montgomery, you're my partner. You're my queen. You're the thunder to my lightning. I want to weather this and every storm with you. Be my wife. Complete me."  
Amelia looked down at the man she loved more than the world. They both knew what this meant for her within their world, but she knew that he wasn't thinking in terms of power and gain. He thought with his heart in this moment. She knew. And yet, she didn't care. He'd been just as terrified of losing her as she been of losing him. Back in that room, that last I love you, that last kiss, she would have died for him, with him. There was no other answer than, "Yes."  
Thomas slipped the sparkling, almost obscenely large, princess cut over her knuckle then kissed it. He kissed each of her knuckles and the back of her hand then moved to her palm and wrist. He leaned up and pressed those eager kisses against her lips. His arms bound her as he stood up, bringing her with him. "Let's go home, ma reine."


End file.
